And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie [63]
Lombard sneered.
He said:
“What’s this? Womanly pity?”
Vera said:
“Why not? Haven’t you any pity?”
He said:
“I’ve no pity for you. Don’t expect it!”
Vera looked down again at the body. She said:
“We must move him. Carry him up to the house.”
“To join the other victims, I suppose? All neat and tidy. As far as I’m concerned he can stay where he is.”
Vera said:
“At any rate let’s get him out of the reach of the sea.”
Lombard laughed. He said:
“If you like.”
He bent—tugging at the body. Vera leaned against him, helping him. She pulled and tugged with all her might.
Lombard panted:
“Not such an easy job.”
They managed it, however, drawing the body clear of high water mark.
Lombard said as he straightened up:
“Satisfied?”
Vera said:
“Quite.”
Her tone warned him. He spun round. Even as he clapped his hand to his pocket he knew that he would find it empty.
She had moved a yard or two away and was facing him, revolver in hand.
Lombard said:
“So that’s the reason for your womanly solicitude! You wanted to pick my pocket.”
She nodded.
She held it steadily and unwaveringly.
Death was very near to Philip Lombard now. It had never, he knew, been nearer.
Nevertheless he was not beaten yet.
He said authoritatively:
“Give that revolver to me.”
Vera laughed.
Lombard said:
“Come on, hand it over.”
His quick brain was working. Which way—which method—talk her over—lull her into security or a swift dash—
All his life Lombard had taken the risky way. He took it now.
He spoke slowly, argumentatively:
“Now look here, my dear girl, you just listen—”
And then he sprang. Quick as a panther—as any other feline creature….
Automatically Vera pressed the trigger….
Lombard’s leaping body stayed poised in mid-spring then crashed heavily to the ground.
Vera came warily forward, the revolver ready in her hand.
But there was no need of caution.
Philip Lombard was dead—shot through the heart….
III
Relief possessed Vera—enormous exquisite relief.
At last it was over.
There was no more fear—no more steeling of her nerves….
She was alone on the island….
Alone with nine dead bodies….
But what did that matter? She was alive….
She sat there—exquisitely happy—exquisitely at peace …
No more fear….
IV
The sun was setting when Vera moved at last. Sheer reaction had kept her immobile. There had been no room in her for anything but the glorious sense of safety.
She realized now that she was hungry and sleepy. Principally sleepy. She wanted to throw herself on her bed and sleep and sleep and sleep….
Tomorrow, perhaps, they would come and rescue her—but she didn’t really mind. She didn’t mind staying here. Not now that she was alone….
Oh! blessed, blessed peace….
She got to her feet and glanced up at the house.
Nothing to be afraid of any longer! No terrors waiting for her! Just an ordinary well-built modern house. And yet, a little earlier in the day, she had not been able to look at it without shivering….
Fear—what a strange thing fear was….
Well, it was over now. She had conquered—had triumphed over the most deadly peril. By her own quick-wittedness and adroitness she had turned the tables on her would-be destroyer.
She began to walk up towards the house.
The sun was setting, the sky to the west was streaked with red and orange. It was beautiful and peaceful….
Vera thought….
“The whole thing might be a dream….”
How tired she was—terribly tired. Her limbs ached, her eyelids were dropping. Not to be afraid anymore … To sleep. Sleep … sleep … sleep….
To sleep safely since she was alone on the island. One little soldier boy left all alone.
She smiled to herself.
She went in at the front door. The house, too, felt strangely peaceful.
Vera thought:
“Ordinarily one wouldn’t care to sleep where there’s a dead body in practically every bedroom!”
Should she go to the kitchen and get herself something to eat?
She hesitated a moment, then decided against it. She was really too tired….
She paused by the dining room door. There were still three little china figures in the middle of the table.